


By The Throat

by applejuice_motherfucker



Category: Homestuck
Genre: M/M, Swearing, mild violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-03-04
Updated: 2013-03-04
Packaged: 2017-12-04 07:01:55
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 720
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/707898
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/applejuice_motherfucker/pseuds/applejuice_motherfucker
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Bro is angry and Dave gets it in the face. Dave gets a boner while getting it in the face. Oops.</p>
            </blockquote>





	By The Throat

**Author's Note:**

> This is the first fic I've posted here, originally from Tumblr obvs. I just wanted angry!Bro with awkward touch-me-now!Dave so I made this thing. P.s. I like the Strider accent <3

“You fuckin' idiot! The fuck were you doing, d'you even think?!” Shit, he's really fucking angry. This is the worst he's been since you wrecked his decks when you were five.

“Alright, I'm sorry,” you mumble. Yes, you're ashamed, you didn't want him to see that and you certainly didn't want this. You try to look down, or away, or just anywhere fucking else, but he grabs you by your jaw and holds your head high so he can stare right into your face. You fucking hate it when he does this.

“No, you stupid little shit, you're a fucking idiot. You ain't getting out of this.” He's got you up against the wall. You're three feet from your bedroom door and helpless. He snatches your shades from your face. They fall to the floor. You want to protest but his grip on your chin holds you fast. “Just tell me what the fuck was going through your tiny fuckin' mind when you decided to punch that dude in the face. You even realise who he was? He's a major fuckin' investor, he basically pays for your fuckin' pizza! Who gives a shit what he said, you don't fuckin' just start slappin' a guy silly for makin' one or two stupid comments, idiot!”

His cheeks are flushed, his words spit in your face and his hands are shaking. The one that isn't shoving you back against the wall is slammed by your head. You're trapped, vulnerable, and you really don't want to be doing this right now.

The worst thing about this isn't his words, or how he's basically screaming in your face. It's how close he is to you. It's like you can feel his heart pumping right against you. He hardly ever lets himself get this close. His hand drops to your throat, not putting pressure on you or anything, just resting there. Holding you down, asserting his already obvious dominance. He's done this before, though never when he's this worked up.

He's watching you closely, you can feel his eyes moving over your face behind the cold black façade of his shades. Shit, this isn't good.

“I ain't even gonna strife with you. You don't fuckin' deserve it.” Thank fuck, you think, he'd probably kill you. He's still watching though, and you can feel your panic rising up through your skin, making you itch. He knows what he's fucking doing, he isn't going to hurt you. Is he?

He's even closer now. You don't know how you never realised how big he is. His shoulders are so wide, his arms are like fucking trees. Your breathing heavier, and your eyes flutter as you try to look up, to keep matching his gaze, but its no use because you can smell him, and you bet you could taste him if you tried.

“Got anythin' to fuckin' say, Dave? Maybe a little fuckin' apology?” His voice is quieter, but still hardened and sharp, it cuts into you without leaving a sting behind. The way his arm bends to hold your throat makes his bicep jut out, straining the sleeve of his shirt, and you can't look away from it. You feel a strangely familiar coil of heat in the pit of your stomach, and your heart flickers for a moment. He's literally breathing down your neck and you can feel your dick getting hard.

“I'm fuckin' waiting, shit-head.” God he's so close. His fingers twitch around your trachea, your eyes flitting shut for a second.

“I'm sorry,” you say, though your voice breaks a little. Your lungs are fighting to keep you standing straight, they can't help you talk now. He snarls, teeth glinting, and you have to bite your lip as you watch his mouth move because you honestly can't concentrate any more.

“One more time,” he whispers, right into your ear, your eyes falling shut. You really can feel his heart beat, right up against your chest, and it confuses you. You can't tell which one's yours any more.

“I'm sorry, Bro,” you say, head spinning, and you know that if he lets you go right now you'll just collapse to the floor.

Which is exactly what he does. He's not even in the house any more by the time you actually manage to open your eyes.


End file.
